Sitting behind the wheel, I grip it too tight, my arm burning where her nails dug in. I know that when I take this dress off later, there will be a physical reminder waiting for me. Of everything that was said in the last few minutes.
I start the car and pull away from the curb, barely registering the traffic around me as I drive. By the time I reach the bridge, my hands are steady, even if everything else isn’t.
As I cross it, I replay the whole conversation again and again, until the sting begins to fade. Or maybe I just get used to it.
I wait for that surge of satisfaction. The proof that I’ve won. That Philip will finally lose his perfect little family. But even when I pull into the parking lot of my building, all I feel is emptiness. A hollow echo where victory was supposed to live.
My hand drifts to my stomach.
“I have you,” I whisper. “You and your father. I just have to wait. And he’ll choose me again. Choose us.”
Chapter 15
your Grace
Cecily
I pace the living room, the sound of my own footsteps the only thing breaking the silence. My hands won’t stay still—clasping together, then lifting to rake through my hair, then falling uselessly at my sides. Every few seconds, I replay her words, trying to make sense of them, but all I find is static.
Maya’s voice. Her eyes. The bitterness in her tone, as if it came from somewhere far deeper than hate.
The things she said—about her mother, about my dad—don’t fit with the man I’ve known my entire life. The man I trusted without question.
I tell myself she’s lying. Twisting the truth. Saying whatever she needs to hurt me. But then I remember the way her voice broke… and my stomach turns.
And the flowers.
It can’t be true. It can’t.
The glass doors slide open.
“Mom, are you okay?” Alicia’s voice cuts through the fog. “It was getting really cold, so I came inside before you called me.”
“It’s okay,” I say, taking a slow breath before turning to her. I force a small smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you in sooner.”
She studies me for a moment, but she doesn’t ask anything more.
Before I can think of what to say next, Ethan appears at the door leading to the garage, car keys in his hand. The moment his eyes meet mine, concern takes over his face.
“Mom… did something happen?” he asks, his brows furrowing.
He sounds younger than he is, and that alone nearly breaks me.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just need to stop by your grandparents’ house for a few minutes, alright? There’s something I need to talk to them about.”
They exchange a look, the kind siblings share when they both know something’s wrong, but choose not to say it out loud.
I kiss them each on the forehead, remind them not to let anyone in while I’m gone, then grab my purse and car keys.
My hands are still shaking.
Inside the car, I sit there for a long moment before turning the engine on. Every deep breath I try to take only makes the air feel more suffocating.
Finally, once my breathing steadies, I pull out my phone and press call.
It rings once. Twice.
“Colin,” I whisper into the empty car, “we need to talk.”
